Affairs of the Heart
by InsanePenman
Summary: A collection of one-shot's revolving around Kurt's love life.
1. Cruel Affairs of the Heart

(A/N: I admit, I should have spent this time working on Waaay Too Much Fuzzy Love, or Endless Tears. The idea for this one-shot wouldn't leave me alone...and admittedly I was really depressed when I wrote this...so I wasn't in the mood for either of my longer fics. Plus I have writer's block. So this will tide you all over 'til I get back to work on the more important things. Hopefully you like the this, though...reviews appreciated greatly! Oh, and for continuity's sake this is happening _during _"Joyride".)

  


It wasn't becoming of the hero to burst into loud racking sobs. Which left him at a quandary: To shut the door, or not to shut the door. That is the question.* To shut it and block out the sound of his tears would only bring friends. Friends he didn't want nor need. It would bring Kitty. Kitty, who's ever subtle motion set his heart racing. Kitty was the reason he was crying, or would be soon. And if she didn't appear then his tears would only come faster and stronger. That would mean she was with Lance.

He left the door a crack open and flopped on the bed, burying his head in the pillow. Lance. A villain if there ever was one. A most undeserving thief who'd so cruelly taken the heart of Katzchen and tossed it absently into his pocket like a cheap toy. Lance who'd never treat her properly, never give her the respect she deserved, never care for her. Never care for her like he would. Never.

He was the worst of the entire Brotherhood, his inner jerk seeping through ever pore. Yet she laughed when he did something rude or unruly. He was a _rebel_. The _tough guy_. He stood up to authority and gave it the finger. It and everyone that even looked at him wrong. Violence was the answer to every little offense, because words were beneath him. When in doubt smash. Was he not the proverbial evil-doer, who would take the heart of a fair damsel and corrupt it with his lust and cruelty? More than once he'd entertained the fantasy of drawing one of his many blades and cutting the knave down to size. Of course, he'd make sure Lance was armed as well. Rage wasn't cause to forget honor.

Tears were streaming down his face now, seeping into his fur and his pillow, both of which were now thoroughly sodden. He lay there, not bothering to sit up and wipe the salty liquid from his eyes rather than let it further soak the pillow he lay on. Instead he tossed the same thoughts over and over in his head. Why did she have to care for _him_? How _could _she care for him? Couldn't she see how little chivalry and honor the "rocktumbler" had? How little respect for anything other than himself?

No friends came, as he managed to restrain the more distinct noises that came with his heritage. It was quite a strain to do so, feeling as he did, but he did not want company. He wanted to think, to cry until his eyes had no more tears to give, and to finally drift off to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream.

Perhaps not the best choice of words. Had they not been speaking of death? He had no intention of self slaughter. Such was the way out of the coward and hopeless. He could cling to hope, no matter how desperate he was. There was hope in God, who would never abandon him. There was hope in home, in the warm smiling faces of his villagers that had raised him. There was hope all around him. He only wished his battered heart had was not so filled to the brim with woe. Then perhaps he could have let a bit of it in. 

Of course, being unbidden and unwelcome to his room and the sight of his tears, soon people came seeking his company. Or more accurately, person. Scott stood in the doorway, taking in the scene of Kurt's blade filled room, which looked more like, had movie posters and comic books been about in such days, the medieval chambers of a valiant knight than the bedroom of a fuzzy, blue demon-elf.** Finally he made his presence known by clearing his throat loudly.

"Kurt...you okay?" he asked quietly, and form down the hall came the sound of Jean's footsteps. No doubt she'd heard his question and came to join in the "Help a Friend in Need" session. A session he most certainly didn't need.

"Ja. Ja. Ah...um...Bye!" Kurt said, stating the last word loudly and immediately 'porting up onto one of the flatter areas of the roof. It was a good place to seek solitude, considering that few of the people that would deem it necessary to follow him could get to it safely. A good place to turn troubling thoughts over in one's head again and again. Especially when the pondering was most assuredly fruitless. Such was the case this night.

Lance the rebel, how she cared for him. He felt like spitting, preferably upon something of value Lance owned. Wasn't it obvious why he couldn't compete? He was fuzzy, blue, and in all features resembled the spawn of Hell. Lance was a normal mutant. He didn't have blue fur that made him look lean and scrawny despite the well-muscled, perfectly honed acrobat's body underneath. He didn't have to brush his face, or have a tail that he couldn't let Kitty touch in fear of his body's reactions. He didn't have...a body to blame his love life's failings on.

Was it the body? Kitty was over the fear, wasn't she? Perhaps then it was the rebel attitude. Was that any less painful? He couldn't help having been born in the wrong millennium, where everything from his musical taste to his hobbies was strange. He was most certainly the only male in his school who would carefully hand select every rose in a bouquet to make sure it perfectly complimented the lady they were meant for. Alas, thus was the fate of the romantic, as love was replaced lust and the beauty and honor of the world by rank filth. Maybe he was being a little melodramatic, but he didn't care. It made sense, didn't it?

He'd perhaps succeeded in one part of his goal: He was now quite lacking in the way of tears, though his facial fur felt as if he'd danced about in the rain, gazing at the sky. Oddly enough, he missed the relief of his tears, the tangible, material representation of his grief. The Institute had already heard of how miserable hew as by now, for certain. They'd heard...so he'd let them truly hear. Forgetting his usual precautions against animalistic acts and noises, he through back his head and let loose a howl that in one burst of mournful sound expressed every tear he'd cried. Every tear he'd cried in her name. 

They'd hear and they'd wonder what had happened to upset the happy-go-lucky elf. Probably one of them, Jean most likely, would come up and "visit". A visit that would undoubtably include the mention of "Are you okay?" and "What's wrong?". Ah, they all assumed it was such a simple question to answer, that his mind was set in stone, his thoughts pointing one way constantly. What would they do if he answered honestly one of these days, perhaps saying solemnly, "I'm in love with Katzchen, and I hate Lance's guts because not only does Kitty like him, but he's a complete and total monster. Plus she only likes him because he's normal looking and has a tough guy, rebel attitude, so I feel like there's no place for a swashbuckling lover like myself." No, he'd give whoever was sent after him the same half-answers and shut their words out like he always did until they left. Why wouldn't they just realize that when he made sure he was alone that he did not want to talk? He didn't need their words. They couldn't understand nightmares of being burned at the stake, or the aches of a lonely heart. Perhaps no one could understand. 

Without a second thought, he raised his face to the sky and howled to the heavens, proclaiming all the injustices of the world.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************

The majority of the X-Men stood puzzled near his room. Why had he ran away so suddenly? He was obviously depressed, so why not talk about it? After all, they knew they'd want to have a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen and understand their troubles. 

"K-Man ran off again? Man, it's probably just Kurt stuff. You know how it goes. He'll come back and act like it never happened, happy as a clown. Why worry?" Evan said with exasperation plain in his voice. His words fit the thoughts of others. Kurt did run off a lot, secluding himself from others, as illogical as that seemed. And he always came back as chipper as could be. Evan was right. Why worry?

"I don't know...I think I'll go talk to him." Jean said thoughtfully, already heading towards Kurt's window to levitate herself out to look for him in his usual hiding place. Cyclops stopped her.

"Evan's right, Jean. Give Kurt some time to blow off steam. He'll be fine. If he was really upset he'd come to one of us and talk. We're fellow mutants and friends, after all. We may not be blue, but we know what it's like to feel unaccepted." Scott intoned, looking forcefully at her.

Jean half-nodded, but said solemnly, "I just can't help but feel like Kurt hurts a lot more than he lets on sometimes."

***************************************************************************************************************************************************

So below the roof they scattered to the four winds, to bed and to late night homework, or in the case of the New Mutants to prepare for a joyride in an X-vehicle. Above the roof Kurt let out one last exhausted howl, and slumped, defeated, to the roof completely, stretching out across the flat surface rather uncomfortably. In seconds he was asleep, his wounded expression not passing from his face, and the woe in his heart not dulling in the rest of dreary sleep.

  


The End

  


(A/N: Now wasn't that just _happy? _Okay, so it wasn't. I personally hated how little of Kurt we saw in the whole "Lancitty" thing, especially in Joyride. The whole "Joyride" sub-plot was pointless. A plot with Kurt being love struck or protective would have been much more interesting. Anyway, reviews appreciated. Really.)

  


*The first of a few references to _Hamlet_. A really great tragedy. Perfect for quoting in such a depressing one-shot, no?

  


**So Kurt's room looks obscenely plain in Evo. Not in my fanfic universe, continuity be damned.

  
  



	2. Giddy

(A/N: Y'know, the previous chapter was supposed to be a one shot....and technically this is a separate story. So, I'd like to announce that this will be my home for one-shots that involve, as the title suggests, Affairs of the Heart. And, to contrast with the depression of the previous chappy I decided to try out a happy fic. And, hopefully this won't scare you all away, I'm trying out a songfic too. The song, which is caught in my head now, is from a play called My Fair Lady, and the song is "On the Street Where You Live". If you happen to have it anywhere, play it while you read. It really sets the mood.)

  


Disclaimer: I don't own the song. But I love it! That counts for something, right? *Glares, along with lobster and Kurt muse.

  


Giddy

Kurt Wagner wasn't one for drugs. Nor did he indulge in alcohol, tobacco, or any of the other many, many nasty things that others his age did to "get high". No, Kurt had always been one for natural highs. The kind of highs that made you feel like your chest was going to explode from the joy, and didn't leave you with a headache. He wasn't addicted to anything, but he'd have killed for anything like the feeling he had now. Kurt had indulged himself on swinging high above awestruck audiences, had flown one of the most advanced planes in existence, had given himself over to joyous worship of his God, and had even once scaled a mountain.

But none of it beat the feeling he had right now, as he strolled down the sidewalk along the street. Along _her _street. Amanda's street. He'd met her...how many days ago had it been? He didn't know. He'd lost track of the days...he'd gone about in a terrible, wonderful stupor since the school dance, since he'd finally met someone outside his little town who loved him for who he was. Personal hygiene had been kept to fanatically, but only in the desperate hopes that he'd see her. It couldn't have been too long, though...she was grounded, and, after he'd taken to writing her love notes in math, she'd been moved to the opposite side of the room to prevent his enamored state of mind from breaking up the class.

He didn't care if she was grounded. He wanted to see her, and he _would _see her, if it killed him. He had to make sure that he hadn't imagined the whole thing, even though in his heart he knew it had. He needed to see just how lovely she was, hear how wonderfully her voice danced through his ears, and smell just how sweet her scent was. He'd risk anything for that. The little voice in the back of his mind that constantly reminded him of the need for caution was still there, but he was blissfully ignoring it. No safety precautions could outweigh his love for her.

Her house couldn't be more than ten away, even though he'd forgotten to glance at the number on the last mailbox. He felt as if his heart would explode if he didn't see her soon, but, at the same time, he wanted to know every step of his way here. It was illogical he supposed, but what about love wasn't? Suddenly a song from something the girls had been watching last night filled his head, and, being a blue, lovestruck elf, he just had to sing. Continuing along, feet moving to slow, melodious beat that only he could hear, Kurt began to sing,

  


"I have often walked down this street before;

But the pavement always stayed beneath before,

All at once am I, several stories high,

Knowing I'm on the street where you live."

His step held a drunkenness and, at the same time, his usual elven grace as he strode towards her house, singing as loudly as he could, perfectly on key and tune, though, of course, no one else about knew this. He stopped to swing on a streetlamp, overcome with a burst of energy, before continuing to walk towards her house. Every step he took felt like Heaven as he continued with the next verse,

"Are there lilac trees in the heart of town?

Can you hear a lark in any other part of town?

Does enchantment pour, out of every door?

No, its just on the street where you live!"

He was in front of her house now, and then he was scrambling towards the side of her house where he knew her room's window was, but he didn't try to attract her attention yet. He was slightly nervous, after all, and thought perhaps that it would be best to try the front door first. So he set off back around to the front of the house, and, as he did, continued his song, having not stopped bouncing to the invisible tune,

"And, O!, the towering feeling,

Just to know, somehow, you are near,

The overpowering feeling,

That any second, you may suddenly appear."

He was bouncing up towards the door now, his progress held back by the occasional twirl of giddy emotion or, just once or twice, the occasional flip or other such perfectly executed acrobatic act. Soon enough he was at the stoop of her door, and he knocked, never halting his bouncing to the beat, though he did extend the length of the period between verses a good deal. He knocked. And waited. Knocked again. And waited. Then he glanced over towards the driveway next to him, and flopped down with a small sigh. She wasn't home. Then his face perked up a bit as he noticed a few people looking at him oddly form across the street, and, after making certain that his blue elfishness wasn't showing, he finished the last verse,

"People stop and stare, but they don't bother me,

For there is no where else on Earth that I would rather be,

Let the time go by, I won't care if I,

Can be here on the street where you live!"

Then,, stretching out across the Sefton's porch he waited for them to get home. Sure, the figure of Kurt laying out on their front porch, likely as the sun began to set, would freak them out. Kurt didn't care. He was happier here, with here being a mixture of Cloud 9 level bliss and Amanda's house, than he'd ever been before. And he had no intention of leaving anytime soon. 

(A/N: Okay, it's a bit short, and based mainly off of how much I love that song, but I liked it. Hope you guys did too. I'd really love to hear if you did. (*cough*reviews!*cough) And, when I get another idea for a short little fic on our favorite fuzzy's love-life, you'll be able to find it here.)


End file.
